Date: Wednesday, 15 May 2013 08:39
Remember them? Memes? Apparently, they's still doing the rounds. One land on my doorstep the other day, twas Dinah, down unda, who send it to me. It was small and fluffy, like a white pigeon. I look at it and say yes, I can play with this.
Toodleoo see y'all soon, the sea is calm, for now.
Date: Tuesday, 07 May 2013 06:24
What a la-la!
Date: Friday, 26 Apr 2013 18:17
Some sisters meet in a coven to sacrifice one who isn't there, and try to bleed she reputation. Maybe there's too many o' them so they can't appreciate. But then again, I hear about a' elderly lady who got just one sister, yet she point-blank refuse to help she ailing sis.
All this come to mind the other day, on the birt'day of my one and only li'l sis. I think about the journey that other sisters decide to take, after the childhood squabbles, to meet in friendship. Like me and my sistah...
...speakin' of birt'days...my sister wasn't born. She drop down from a cokanut tree.
I know this because it is what my two big brothers did tell me about me when I was a tot. That piece o' news did upset me so bad, I tramp-up me feet and squeal like a piggy stick-up in a fence. I just had to share this misery with somebody else one day. When the time was right, in the middle of a squabble, I inform my sister that she drop from a cokanut tree.
Mammy [who I believe does exaggerate the virtues of she children] say that my sister walk and talk in 9 months. And, even before that, she dance in rhythm to a song with she hands in the air...at age 6 months.
Me? No, no, I ain't jealous, whaz wrong with you to ask me that? Okay, okay, what you expect when you's 6 years old and suddenly a new baby jump in, braps, just so...
All in all, I did try to be a good big sister, play the same tricks on she that two big brothers did to me. Problem is, she got a mule-ish stubbornness that make she refuse to co-operate sometimes.
Like on that morning when I wake up, lazy as any young teen can be after a long night sleep. I call out to li'l sister. If you coulda hear me, you woulda swear something bad did happen. Li'l sista rush in, What, what? She worried-ness please me plenty, heh, I got she good now.
I point to them curtains, two-inches away from me. "Open my curtains for me?" I ask, make sure I hide the giggle good.
Do you know! She had the nerve to be vex! Suck she teeth and turn away.
"Please?" I add.
She continue walking. At this point, I had to take strong measures.
"Pleeeease?" I beg.
She leggo one big sigh loaded with disgust, turn back, pull open them curtains and leave.
Oh! What joy when I discover, not long after, that li'l sister did land on earth on Kim Il Sung birt'day, oh the teasing, tee hee hee.
You might ask, what a set of 3rd world children know about that man? Plenty, lemme tell you, we had North Korean neighbours once upon a time. But this is not about that man, this is about the gal who hurry so quick to drop from the cokanut tree, she just choose a random date and, baps, there she was.
And now, look, here me is, admitting, yeh, my li'l sister can shake like Shakira. (Don't ask she to sing though).
I ain't braggin' or nothing, but...
...gimme a chance to tell you one itsy-bitsy story that show the spirit of my sis, the sorta spirit that draw humans and other critters around she.
It was a Sattiday morning, she been sitting in a football (I think them Mericans say soccer) field in Florida. I guess, as per normal, she been shamelessly shouting encouragement to Imu, she first-born son. In the midst of it, she text me.
A bird sit on everybody chair n wont move n he fly round screamin n he comin n sittin on me knee. Then i realize he thirsty n i open my bottle, pour some water in a cap n give he.
He drink? I ask.
Yes, she reply, i hold de cap n he drink, i talk to he, I say, you thirsty nah? Oww, is only lil bit o' water u did want. he cock he head, listn n drink. He is a blu jay, i name he jay.
Well...finally and in conclusion, even though this last sentence is a non-sequitor and don't have nothing to do with the above, I believe that my li'l sister is the great kid she is thanks to me, I ain't know how, but I am working on proving it, heh.
Date: Saturday, 13 Apr 2013 19:37
Date: Tuesday, 09 Apr 2013 08:36
Outside, through this window in front o' me, rain is shakin' down in thick, wet, silver clumps. Them leaves in the tree is so plump-up with glee, they can't move, as if their bellies is stuff-up with coolness 'n' damp after so many scorching, thirsty days.
Pieces o' heavy-grey sky, peeping between them branches, is lulling-up me eyes.
Normally, I would hear the rain on the zinc roof, woosha-waaha, woosha-waaha, woyyyy. But I ain't hearing nothing this minute, 'cos right now, I's washin' me ears with Purple Rain.
T'was in The Island, where I useta live one time, that me gal-pal Al did introduce me to the music of Prince...long-long after he became famous.
I useta play that ol' cassette every weekend-morning, when dove-calls in them trees coo-up me ears with loneliness and I curl up in me bed with that mood. Then July-August months fry-down so hot, the concrete of my little home bake me like I was four-and-twenty black birds in a pie. Finallyyy, the late year bring sheets o' rain, page upon page o' wet crystal-notes, tappin' tunes on the concrete.
After that rain - stillness. Mist drift upon them mountain-tops all around the city, like a music-conductor signalling, soff-soff. And coming like a song o' promise, was the smell o' green-ess, flowing from them mountains.
Purple Rain is over now. The rain-show here is done too. Swish-swish, go the slushy-slusha wet traffic wheels by the seawall, braa-daaap, blow the truck horn like a trumpet, a li'l outta tune like we police band. The tree outside this window is shivering to a li'l dance-beat and a kiskadee-bird just sing out kiskadeeee, calling Encore or Bravo, I ain't know, I have one good ear and one bad ear thanks to Dr. Quack when I was a child, and I's just too glad to hear.
Date: Tuesday, 02 Apr 2013 16:30
This week-end somebody share out power-cuts as if a man been doling out dollars to the poor to buy he way to heaven.
It was kite-season, and kites tengle-up with electric wire...pfffft...the lights gone off.
This morning, I go to English-tutor the wife of a big foreign man, he greet me in the corridor, How are you and I grumble about the power-cuts. He say, "It is disgraceful. With all this wind and sunlight, your country should be using that for power, it is much cheaper instead of trying to get hydro-electricity."
"Please, tell the folks in charge for me," I say and stab the wall of the corridor with me finger to emphasize me feelings.
But later, I been thinking, dreaming again...yet again...of selling these power-cuts.
I can hide 'em in a big, black cloak and whisper to potential buyers like I's selling some dark 'n' dirty secret (people love Dark 'n' Dirty).
Or I can stand on a cart like the snake-oil man in pioneer America and tell people what power-cuts do for me.
Depending on the time of day or night, a power-cut can make me feel as if I eat something sweEeeEet, so sweet like Auntie M. sugah-cakes...grate the cokanut and cook it down with sugar, a li'l bit of milk and two drops o' essence.
If the power-cut happen in the day when the sun is just dapplin', warm and mellow, I can go downstairs into the east side of the yard and stand up and listen to them tree-leaves telling me things I ain't undastand but feel deep in me spirit until me head sigh a long-glorious sigh, saying, Ahhhh, this is life.
But when I am watching tall, handsome men on tee-vee detective shows, a power-cut can make me turn sowah like lime-juice blend-up with vinegar.
"Buy it for romance, or buy it to dash on people you don't like..." That is how I would sell these power-cuts.
I would give out free samples too, I'm generous like that.
Date: Thursday, 28 Mar 2013 11:56
Date: Friday, 15 Mar 2013 15:54
Date: Thursday, 07 Mar 2013 07:35
Date: Wednesday, 20 Feb 2013 11:28
Date: Wednesday, 13 Feb 2013 08:10
Date: Friday, 25 Jan 2013 07:35
Date: Tuesday, 15 Jan 2013 11:21
Date: Friday, 21 Dec 2012 08:21
I am visitin' them immigrants, that is, my family, in Florider, and as usual on a Sunday morning, everything start out sweet 'n' civilised, like bread and jam and tea.
"Look, a goose out there." Mammy who been peeping through the other glass-door behind she, hollar out.
Like a' army general, the goose turn to face me nephew with the camera.
No, not to pose.
No, not to pose.
Date: Wednesday, 19 Dec 2012 14:46
While I get my act together to tell you where I am, and about de fam'ly in Florida [hint hint], check out these yummy Caribbean food blogs...y'know, just in case you want something deliciously different for Christmas:
Cynthia does cook up food that Tastes like home
Wizzy does whip up Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner (and punch).
Remember to wipe yer mouths before you drool on de keyboard.
Date: Friday, 07 Dec 2012 11:02
Date: Thursday, 29 Nov 2012 07:56
Date: Tuesday, 27 Nov 2012 07:58
We ain't ships in the night. Ships are only things, they come, they go, they don't feel. We are the people in the ships. And we leave impressions on others as we pass. Sometimes, we come on land to do and be much more.
Date: Friday, 23 Nov 2012 06:55
Ah don't smoke. Ah don't do coke. Ah don't carouse at night like de cat in de rum-shop. Ah don't eat meat. Ah don't blah-blah, on and on, like de pseudo-intellectuals here about politics. Man look, I got to have one li'l vice, eh? Everybody who know me does laugh when they hear why I am rushing home soon after 4 o' clock in de aftanoon. Yes, yes, I am watching de Young an' de Restless. Oh, shame on me for relishing it so freely, weyyyy hey! "Girl, if you only know! After we graduated, I didn't want to see a book for two years," I tell she. "Some Friday afternoons, after a tough week of television production, I ain't want to go nowhere, do nothing. So I would go to the drug-store, buy a True Confession magazine. I would have dinner early, shower, jump into bed with my magazine and a mug of chocolate milk. Joy!" "Me too," she reply. "I was so ashamed...I would hide it in a book and read!" Why? Why we women here got to be ashamed like that?
Date: Wednesday, 21 Nov 2012 11:46
Ah don't drink.
One woman tell me that she ex-hubby used to hide de tee-vee, he lock it up, because he ain't want she to watch that show.
Dis remind me of de email I did send, a couple o' years ago, to a Trinidad gal-pal I meet at university in The Island.
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